


Rara Avis

by shinigami714



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Durincest, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Scars, Smut, Thilbo, Violence, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is taken captive at a young age by Smaug, who confuses the hobbit for a princess. An AU based a bit on classic tales of dragons. Thorin/Bilbo with mentions of Fili/Kili and hints at Dwalin/Ori.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rara Avis

**Author's Note:**

> Numia22 on ff.net prompted this, or something similar, I just twisted it up a bit. They asked me to write a story about a universe in which Smaug took Bilbo captive as his princess, just like the classic tales of dragons. I wasn't going to write this next, but…yeah, it destroyed my mind for two days at work, and then before I knew it I had a full outline written for it. Today I was running across work to write down random notes before I forgot about them. It took me a few days to get it together, since it's longer than most of my stories. Hope you guys enjoy.

Bilbo Baggins was a happy child. He loved to explore, and run about in gardens heedless of the angry comments shouted at him. He loved to read and jump and climb trees. He loved the Shire and his home, and his mother whom told him stories of great adventures each night before bed. He did not however, like sitting still, or listening to old Halfred Greenhand drone on about whichever lesson he thought important on a particular day. Today was one of those days.

And so Bilbo fidgeted. He tapped the ground, and picked the grass. He even whispered jokes in the ears of nearby Hobbit children. Mister Greenhand would often look at him with a frown, or even call out his name to scold him, but still Bilbo persisted and refused to focus on the lesson. His eyes wandered to the skies where he watched the clouds form the shapes of Elves, Dwarves, goblins and dragons. Everything his imagination could conjure. Someday, Bilbo figured he'd venture out on his own and actually happen on an Elf, or even a Dwarf. He'd looked many times in the forests surrounding the Shire, though he was beginning to think they might not live there. Someday maybe he'd even slay a dragon and rescue a princess! Bilbo grinned wistfully then immediately remembered only a knight or king could rescue a princess. He'd have to become one of those first! Bilbo chuckled to himself and bounced in his seat, though a look from his teacher had him stilling and rolling his eyes.

He was so very bored. He returned to picking at the grass in front of him when a large spider ghosted across his fingers. His eyes sparkled with joy. Bilbo held the spider up and watched it with fascination before smirking and setting it on Celandine's shoulder. The girl shifted a bit in front of him then turned to look at Bilbo with a frown. Bilbo just pointed at her shoulder with a grin. When she focused on the spider her eyes grew impossibly wide and she screamed out, her curly locks bouncing as she shook.

"Get it off! Get it off! Mister Greenhand! Bilbo put a spider on me!" Celandine screeched, scrambling to brush the spider away, and Bilbo fell over with laughter. He was so immersed by his chuckles he failed to notice as a dark shadow cast over him and he looked up in shock as Mister Greenhand grabbed his ear and pulled hard.

"Bilbo Baggins! That's enough. I've told you time and time again, but still you refuse to sit and learn," the teacher growled, and he dragged Bilbo over to sit alone under a tree away from the class while mumbling about Tooks and troublemakers.

"Ow! Ow!" Bilbo complained as he was pulled along. Mister Greenhand propped him up to face the bark of the tree then held out a cone shaped hat to him.

"Put this on you little menace. One more sound from you and your mother will hear of this I assure you," Mister Greenhand spoke harshly, his eyes glaring down at the young Hobbit. Bilbo pouted but put the funny hat upon his head, witness to the laughter of the rest of the class behind him. He heard his teacher turn and lecture the class loudly before resuming his boring lesson once more. Bilbo frowned into the tree. What did he care? The tree was far more interesting than anything Mister Greenhand had to say. Bilbo did manage to sit quiet and still however, because above all, he did not wish to upset his mother. He knew she would not think his behaviour very respectable, even if she did encourage his fancies and adventures with a warm smile.

He watched as ants climbed up the tree with rapt interest. The world was so complex and mysterious. Bilbo knew there must be much outside of the Shire he did not know. He longed to see the rest of Middle-earth, to explore all of the places his mother showed him on maps and in books. Anything would be better than sitting in his lessons. Maybe Gandalf would visit soon! He always had an interesting story to tell. His fireworks were quite entertaining as well.

Bilbo knew not how long he'd sat there silently when suddenly a chill passed through his tiny shoulders. He shivered and looked up at the sky. The clouds moved quickly and a strange grey darkness was spreading in the sky over the Shire. The young Hobbit turned to look at his classmates when a loud roar sounded in the air and echoed in his ears. Everyone was looking towards the skies and Bilbo observed as Mister Greenhand ushered the other children away and to their homes. It seemed he'd forgotten about Bilbo, whom stayed frozen in place as he watched a dark shadow grow and spread over the many Hobbit holes.

Then he saw it. A creature bigger than anything he'd ever laid his young eyes upon. Its wings flapped viciously in the wind and Bilbo watched with horror as it twisted violently and hot flames burst from its mouth towards the Shire. He could feel the warmth from the fire even from his distance. Bilbo shook and stumbled as the ground rumbled when the monster landed, crushing homes with its massive feet. It cast its flames upon everything; Hobbits screaming and falling to the ground in pain. Bilbo finally found the will to move, and he ran quick as his feet would carry him through trees and towards his home. He had to find his mother. But then the great beast turned, its leathery scales twisting over its muscles and Bilbo watched in horror as a thick cascade of flames encased his very own Hobbit hole. Bilbo gasped out in pain, hot wet tears coming to is eyes. He fell to the ground, his hands digging into the grass beneath him. His mother! His mother was…! He could not bear to think of it, but still he sobbed and stared hopelessly at the destruction of his home.

Bilbo's eyes moved suddenly back to the thing that had attacked his village. He realised this must be a dragon, just like in the tales his mother read to him. If this was a dragon, Bilbo knew he never wanted to be a knight. He never wished to see such a beast again. It turned then and Bilbo trembled as one of its large glassy eyes bore into his form. The creature flapped its wings, smoke and fire blowing out under them, and it rose, landing roughly in front of Bilbo. The ground shook and Bilbo toppled over, the hat upon his head falling to the grass below. He felt hot breath upon his face and struggled not to scream in terror.

"Are you a princess?" The dragon's thick voice came out in a dark and nasally tone, sending tremors throughout Bilbo's body. The Hobbit shuddered when another ghost of hot air passed over his body, and then glanced at the dragon in confusion. A princess? Of course he wasn't a princess. Then his eyes spotted the pointed hat on the ground and he figured the dragon had mistaken him. He was about to respond back that no he definitely was not a princess when he realised he did not wish to die. After witnessing all of his friends, and his family dying at the hands of this beast, Bilbo Baggins feared it more than anything. He recalled the tales his mother told him of dragons. They took princesses as their own, captives in caves and mountains. Bilbo had always been a clever child. Perhaps if he pretended he was a princess, he would live to see another day. He reached for the hat, and placed it back upon his head, struggling to find his voice.

"Y-yes. I'm…a p-princess," Bilbo managed to stutter.

"Odd looking, for a princess. No matter, can you cook? Can you clean?" The dragon questioned him, its large pointed teeth visible as it spoke, and thick globs of saliva dribbled over its gums and down its face.

"Y-yes!" Bilbo shouted back, determined to save himself. Truthfully he knew little about cooking, but he could clean just fine, and he was sure he could teach himself whatever he did not know.

"That settles it. You will be my princess. I am Smaug," the dragon finished and then he flapped his wings once more, baring his teeth as his great body lifted and a claw grasped Bilbo around his waist. The Hobbit could not hold back a scream as he was lifted into the air. He held on to the hat tightly, his only possession now, and watched with pain as Smaug released one last fiery breath upon the Shire. Bilbo let thick wet tears leak from his eyes as they floated away from his now desolate home.

Sometime during the flight Bilbo had slipped into unconsciousness, the hat mercifully clenched within his fingers. He did not wake until he felt a quick descent, and a great lurch within his belly. He saw the outside of the mountain, surrounded by thick forests and wreckage briefly, before his body was flung onto a cold stone floor within. He rolled over in pain and braced himself as Smaug clashed into the piles of gold that littered the room. Smaug's body shifted underneath the gold, and then his head popped out from the coins, one of his eyes looking at Bilbo.

"This is where you will live now, princess. You will do what I say, when I say to. There are many rooms within the mountain. Find one and make it your own. You can start by cleaning the mountain. I will call you when I need you," Smaug spoke and Bilbo nodded frantically and backed away, finding his way from the large room. The Hobbit ran through a long hall, anything to get away from the beast, before he collapsed in a dark corner and cried. He remembered his mother, and how she would smile at him when he'd hurt himself, and fix up a scrape before kissing his cheek. Oh how Bilbo missed her now. He wept for hours, until he had no more tears to weep. Finally Bilbo stood, rubbing at his heavy eyes, and he began to wander the mountain. It was a mess. Dust covered the floor, along with other things that Bilbo did not care to think about. He spent the evening exploring, and finding his way around. He had hardly discovered a tenth of the mountain when he decided upon his room. It was large, but cozy, with a soft bed that needed cleaning, but it would be comfortable enough.

Bilbo sat on the mattress, staring at his feet. He did his best to remember everything from the tales about dragons. The beasts would capture a princess to take care of their home. Princesses were highly valued amongst dragons. He knew that a dragon without a princess was worth far less than one with. His mother had always told him how princesses would lay in wait until a valiant knight would come to their rescue and take them as their wife. The tales all had happy endings. Bilbo could see no happiness in his future, but he hoped that someday a knight would rescue him. That small piece of hope kept him going for many days to come.

+++++

It was with a heavy heart that Gandalf rode his horse into the Shire. He had heard stories of the devastation of Smaug during his short stay in Bree, but still he needed to see it for himself. The air was thick with black smoke, and the wizard frowned as he rode into the town. No building was left standing, everything charred to a black. He stalled his horse at the sight of several dead Hobbit children in his path. Their bodies were sprawled in awkward positions, clothing torn and blackened. Gandalf dismounted and approached with trepidation. He saddened at the sight then bent to place blessings upon them. Such destruction upon a peaceful place like Hobbiton, it was disturbing. Gandalf walked through the rest of the path, knowing he would not be pleased but needing to see. He paused before Bag End. The roof was caved in, the once beautiful green door now a dark murky black. Gandalf pushed it open and it fell with a crash to the ground. He bent low to enter the Hobbit hole, coughing as smoke invaded his lungs. The entire home had been torched. He saw what might have been a body once, but it was so blackened and charred, it was impossible to be sure. Still Gandalf was confident; the body of Belladonna Took lay on the ground before him. His eyes grew damp and he turned and searched the rest of Hobbiton for survivors.

Several hours later Gandalf sighed and returned to his horse. Not one Hobbit still alive. The dragon had been quite thorough in his destruction. Gandalf began his trip back to Bree, his heart far heavier than it had ever been before. He knew not why a beast would attack such innocent Hobbits and he cursed the name of Smaug as he rode away to spread his knowledge of the devastation.

+++++

Bilbo learned quickly what was expected of him. His first few days had been terrifying lessons. He'd made the mistake of refusing to skin a pony and had been rewarded with scalding burns all down his left side. They had taken days to heal, and he suffered intense pain and still had permanent scars to remind him of the misdeed. He quickly got over his disgust of skinning and cooking for Smaug. The dragon luckily feasted mostly on woodland animals from the nearby forests. Every so often though, Smaug would saunter into the mountain and drop the body of something else at his feet. Sometimes a human, sometimes what Bilbo thought must be an elf. He'd retched the first night he had to flay one, and woke screaming from nightmares for weeks after.

Cleaning the mountain was time consuming. It took him years to gain any ground, and at the age of thirty Bilbo was sure he still had yet to uncover many parts of it. He had to admit, the mountain was quite beautiful once clean. The walls and architecture shone with gold and gems, and the stone on the ground and in the pillars was etched with mesmerising images that told stories of battles and other things Bilbo did not understand.

He had discovered a library a year into his stay and been ecstatic. Bilbo found that even with his never-ending job of keeping the mountain clean he still had plenty of free time. He spent almost all of it in the library, pouring through ancient tombs he couldn't understand. They were filled with characters from a language he was unfamiliar with, though many were illustrated, and he was able to decipher some of it. He figured he was in an old Dwarven castle, and he longingly wished he'd been here when the Dwarves had occupied it, instead of the blasted dragon. He'd found some books in the common tongue, and had been able to occupy his mind with those as well. In one there had been a map, and he'd looked upon it with excitement. His fingers hovered over it until they landed upon 'The Shire'. Sadness came to him as he remembered his once beautiful home. Even in all of his time spent in the mountain, Bilbo never forgot his home. He still thought longingly of Bag End, and his mother, and figured the least he could do was respect her memory by becoming a suitable Hobbit like her. He perfected his cooking skills, and his cleaning was impeccable. He had sewn clothing from scraps within the various rooms, which he was sure his mother would have approved of. And above all, he never forgot he was a Hobbit, and he never forgot he was from Bag End. He pushed his memories away quickly letting his fingers drag to other parts of the map. There were many mountains on it, however only one that was surrounded by a large expanse of trees. Erebor, it said, and Bilbo assumed that must be where he was.

He looked at the other mountains that riddled the map and wondered if there must be others like him. He pondered on just how many princesses were out there imprisoned, and awaiting rescue. Then he swiftly reminded himself that he was not really a princess, and that most likely there was not a single other out there like him. He tried to hold on to the hope that someday someone would come, but as more years passed, and not one person breeched or entered the mountain, Bilbo began to think it likely he would remain here alone, until his death, as nothing more than a servant to Smaug.

In the rest of his time Bilbo explored. There were hoards of gold and jewels in Erebor, and Bilbo looked upon them in fascination. He did not understand the possessive nature Smaug had towards it, as it was merely shiny and pretty to the Hobbit, but he did enjoy looking at the different items for lack of anything else to do. It was in his thirty sixth year that he found it. Amidst the many coins in the main hall a blue sparkling light emitted from them. Bilbo dug at it and pushed piles of coins away to discover a beautiful jewel. It glittered in even complete darkness, and it was larger than his hands put together. It was the first object in the mountain the Hobbit had any attraction towards. Bilbo knew that Smaug would dislike if he claimed it as his own without asking. The dragon and Hobbit had formed a slightly friendlier relationship after so many years spent in each other's company and Bilbo could sometimes sway him, without the risk of burns. The dragon allowed him great freedom within the walls of the mountain. So he had asked Smaug timidly. Bilbo approached him after bringing him his nightly meal.

"Smaug…," he began, and the dragon raised a brow at him, while he devoured his food.

"I found this today, and was hoping, you might let me keep it," Bilbo softly spoke and pulled the jewel from his pocket. Smaug glanced upon the gem in his hands and snorted a bit, smoke emitting from his nostrils.

"Hmm? The jewel interests you princess? Take it; I have no need for such a thing. It is the gold of this mountain that my eyes and body adore," Smaug had spoken and Bilbo gratefully claimed the gem, crafting a simple thong to hold it around his neck. It felt nice to have something he could call his own, though in the back of his mind Bilbo knew, that truly nothing in the mountain was really his, but he could pretend. He held it often in the dark of the night, and it soothed his tormented mind. His one possession had been the hat he'd brought with him, the very hat that saved his life, though even that was long burnt to a crisp.

It was Smaug that had done it, but Bilbo did not blame him, rather he blamed the dragon's friend. Bilbo had met a few different dragons in his time with Smaug. There was Apalala who came from the west, and from what Bilbo understood lived on an island surrounded by water. She was rather disinterested in Bilbo's state of affairs, and had a princess of her own, so Smaug saw her in high esteem.

Then there was Fraener, from the south, in the Ash Mountains, whose greed seemed to rival Smaug's. Bilbo caught him on many occasions trying to slip away with gold. Smaug appreciated the Hobbit's fast eyes, and warmed to him slightly on these occasions. Smaug disliked Fraener greatly, though the dragon had a decent personality, as far as dragons go.

The worst and last of the bunch by far was Scatha, a serpent dragon that hailed from Mount Gundabad. He was wingless, his body slipping across the ground in a snakelike fashion. The dragon leered at Bilbo, and on an occasion or two had lashed out, scratching him with his long claws. It was on one such occasion that he'd lost his hat, the very first time he'd met the serpent.

"What's this you have here, Smaug," Scatha had seethed, wriggling his body around the fire-drake to peer at Bilbo's shaky form. He was rather young still at the time, and trembled just a bit at the sight of another dragon. But he knew this dragon was not a fire-drake like Smaug and so he held his ground.

"My princess. You would do well to find one for yourself Scatha. Last I visited, your mountain was filled with the filth of orcs," Smaug chuckled darkly. Scatha just sneered and approached Bilbo.

"A princess? Looks more like a ferret to me," Scatha uttered, and Bilbo had gasped in surprise.

"A ferret? I'll have you know that I'm a Baggins, of Bag End! An entirely respectable Hobbit! Though I wouldn't expect a dragon that can't breathe fire to understand," Bilbo spoke out indignantly, and gripped his hat upon his head, adjusting it slightly. He had never managed to completely control his temper, and his quick tongue still got him into trouble with Smaug frequently. Scatha snarled, smoke coming from his nostrils and he lashed out a claw, scratching across Bilbo's hips, and throwing the Hobbit to the ground. Smaug had turned quickly, flames spreading upon the other dragon, and in the process he completely ruined Bilbo's hat.

"Keep your slimy paws off of my princess Scatha, if you want to live another day," Smaug growled, and Scatha fell back in pain.

"You grow weak in your old age Smaug," Scatha hissed, and left the mountain quickly. Bilbo still had the scars upon his chest from that encounter, and he had only suffered more under Smaug's wrath that night. The dragon did not appreciate being humiliated in front of others. Since that time, Bilbo had seen Scatha visit on several occasions, and each time he kept himself scarce, so as not to start another argument. Often times though Smaug would summon him, and Scatha would find a way to put another mark on Bilbo's body. Truthfully, Scatha terrified him the most of all the dragons he had met, far more than even Smaug.

Bilbo shivered at the memories. He supposed he was lucky, that he'd been taken by Smaug and not that disgusting serpent. He probably would not have lasted a day in his presence. The Hobbit's hand gently rubbed at a thick scar on his face while he reminisced on yet another encounter with the dragon.

Many more years passed, and Bilbo scratched the days away on the wall of the room he lived in. As they passed Bilbo's hopes at being rescued diminished greatly. The tales his mother once told him were nothing more than that, fantasies, in the back of his mind. He knew he would never find love, that he would always be a solitary Hobbit. It was with great sorrow that Bilbo scratched off on the wall his fiftieth birthday. Fifty. He'd been in the mountain with Smaug for well over thirty years now. He dragged his feet through the halls of Erebor, unseeing. His birthdays were always an upsetting affair. He had no one to share them with, and nothing much to celebrate. He remembered vaguely when he turned thirty three. In the Shire such a birthday would have been cause for a great celebration, a festivity honoring maturity. But here, in the mountain, Bilbo felt no different. He had aged far quicker than an average Hobbit, his childhood long lost in the days before Smaug's attack. Sometimes Bilbo regretted ever telling Smaug he was a princess. Perhaps he would have been better off if he'd let the dragon kill him that day in the Shire, along with everyone else. Bilbo sighed heavily. Deep down he was just a coward, still afraid of death.

He found his body once again in the library, pulling various tombs from the shelves. He had last been reading through a book about what he assumed was a history of Dwarves. He couldn't read much of it, only a few characters standing out on the pages, but the pictures showed a great god, and seven Dwarves. It was a children's book, illustrated, and the images took up more space than the words. He opened it and started from the beginning once again, enjoying the colourful pictures. It was midday when Bilbo heard it, a loud tapping that echoed throughout the mountain. He looked up, a frown upon his face, and then began walking the halls. The incessant tapping was annoying and he wanted to stop it. He was halfway to the gold room when the mountain shook. Bilbo scrambled to gain his balance, his eyes widening in surprise. He leant against a wall as the mountain shook again, and then quickly ran the rest of the way.

"Smaug? Smaug? What in the blazes is going on?" Bilbo shouted as he ran into the large room. Smaug was shaking gold from his body and looking up with a snarl.

"Go to your room princess!" Smaug growled, and then he prepared to take flight.

"What? What's happening?" Bilbo asked once more, and Smaug turned to him and pushed him away with his long tail.

"Go! Now!" Smaug shouted, and then he flapped his wings and took off to the skies. Bilbo gaped but did as told, running back to his room deep in the mountain. He heard angry loud noises and the clashing of metal, dark screams and screeches well into the night. Bilbo found one of the many blades of the mountain and held it tight to his chest, though he knew not what he would do with it given the chance. He wondered if another dragon was attacking, trying to take the mountain from Smaug. Was it Fraener? Bilbo did not think the dragon had the courage to challenge Smaug, even with his incredible lust for gold. Bilbo shuddered at the thought of Scatha taking the mountain. He would surely torture Bilbo, and the Hobbit knew of no way to exit the mountain's deep depths. Although that seemed unlikely as well. Scatha was wingless, and fireless, Smaug held a great advantage over him. Bilbo waited terrified until the sounds diminished. He could hear cheers and singing, and Bilbo shook. Were those the voices of…humans? Of other beings of middle earth? He stayed in his room, too wary to venture from it and discover what had happened.

It had been several hours, when he heard voices approaching. Then they began knocking the door open. Bilbo pressed himself tightly against the opposite wall, the blade clenched tightly against his chest. The door flew open and a group walked in, turning to look at him in shock. Bilbo's eyes were wide, as they connected with the deep blue ones of a Dwarf. The group looked at each other in surprise then to Bilbo who could not find the will to make his body move. He saw then a pointed hat move from the back of the group. Bilbo recognized that hat, but no, it was not possible!

"G-gandalf?" He stuttered out. The wizard moved forward, his eyes passing over the Hobbit slowly. He squinted then stepped closer still.

"Bilbo…Baggins? Is that you?" The wizard questioned, and Bilbo dropped his sword with a clatter to the ground and collapsed in a pile of tears. It took a while for the Hobbit to relax, but eventually he was able to pour out everything. The destruction of his home, how he'd told Smaug he was a princess, and how he'd been stuck in the mountain ever since.

"It was quite clever of you Bilbo, to convince the dragon you were a princess! I am so glad to see you alive, and relatively well. I had thought there were no survivors," Gandalf wearily spoke. Bilbo sniffled a bit and smiled at him. The wizard patted him gently on the shoulder and embraced him tightly, telling him of the company, and their plan to take the mountain back from the dragon Smaug. Ever since he'd seen the devastation Smaug had put upon the Shire, Gandalf had known he would help slay the beast. The wizard smiled and then introduced him to the company that had slayed the dragon and freed him from imprisonment.

"Bilbo, I'd like you to meet Thorin Oakenshield. The leader of our company and King of Erebor," Gandalf smiled and gestured towards the tall Dwarf with the blue eyes. Bilbo flushed slightly and bowed in his presence.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty," Bilbo spoke. The Dwarf regarded him emotionlessly before he stepped closer.

"You as well Master Hobbit," Thorin responded regally and his eyes travelled over him, pausing on the scars on his body, then moved towards the gem around his neck, widening slightly. The Dwarf raised a hand, resting it upon the jewel.

"You've found my Arkenstone. The heart of my mountain," Thorin spoke in a gasp. He then looked into Bilbo's eyes.

"Whatever can I do to thank you?" Thorin asked of him, and Bilbo lost his voice. The jewel around his neck belonged to this king before him. Bilbo was struck suddenly with the realisation that he now had nothing to his name. Not even the clothes on his back belonged to him. The gold and everything within the halls of the mountain belonged to this king. And he knew the Dwarf before him had no interest in him, only in reclaiming what was once his. The tales his mother once told him appeared again in his mind. He snorted at the thought. As if he could ever have had the happy ending within them. He was never a princess to begin with, merely a Hobbit. He thought briefly of running, of keeping the stone he'd held with him for fifteen years. He looked at it and picked it up gently in his fingers. The one thing he'd thought was his no longer was. Bilbo smiled sadly, and then unlatched it from his neck handing it to the Dwarf king, to its rightful owner.

"I require nothing, your majesty, though I would request lodgings, until I am able to find my own way. I can work for my keep, I'm a capable cook, and have become quite good at cleaning the many years I've been held here," Bilbo started. The Dwarves observed him with surprise. What creature asked for nothing but a place to stay, and to work for keep at that?

"You should have seen the place when I first arrived, inches of dust on every surface!" Bilbo finished with a nervous laugh. Thorin held the gem in his hands, gazing at it, and then he looked back upon the Hobbit.

"Of course you may stay here, and you need not work for it, you have done me a great service keeping this safe," Thorin said then he turned and beckoned the others to follow him. That night there was a great feast in the mountain, and Bilbo met all of the Dwarves Thorin had brought with him. There was Balin, who seemed filled with vast amounts of knowledge, and Bilbo quite liked him. Then there was his brother Dwalin, who rather terrified the Hobbit, with his tattoos and intimidating personality. He met Dori, Nori, and Ori, three brothers who seemed fairly pleasant, though Ori was his favourite of the bunch. A quiet Dwarf that had interest in reading and tales like Bilbo did. By the end of the night Ori had drawn him at least five times, and Bilbo looked upon the sketches with awe.

Then there were Fili and Kili, Thorin's nephews. They were troublemakers; Bilbo could see the smirks and pranks hidden in their eyes. The two brothers were inseparable, sitting next to each other the entire night, not a breadth of air between them. Oin and Gloin were brothers as well, though Bilbo did not have anything in common with them. Oin did make sure to check him over for injuries, pausing at the scars that riddled the Hobbit's body. Bilbo shied away from him quickly, unwilling to speak of them at that time. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were a friendly group. Bofur chatted with Bilbo cheerily, curious about how he'd managed to live with Smaug the terrible for so long, and not be burnt to a crisp. Bilbo laughed and said there had been many times he nearly had been. And lastly of course there was Thorin.

Bilbo found his gaze stuck upon the Dwarf king for much of the night. The Dwarf had a strong build, with long intricately braided hair and a thick beard. His hair was black, with lovely white streaks running through it that Bilbo wished he could run his fingers through. His eyes were heavy set, and their colour was stunning. He was everything Bilbo thought a king should be. Majestic, regal, powerful, intense, and oh so very…attractive. Bilbo flushed slightly at the thought. The Dwarf had a commanding presence, and there was something about him that instantly captivated the Hobbit. Bofur, who sat next to him, must have noticed his staring, because he whispered frequently into Bilbo's ear.

"Got a crush already have you Master Hobbit?" Bofur teased, and Bilbo looked down ashamed. He knew it was silly. But he was still holding on to a silly hope, that fairy tales did exist. Bofur didn't seem to think less of him but it did not better his mood. On a few occasions Bilbo caught the king returning his gaze, though his eyes seemed to mainly linger upon the marks on Bilbo's frame. It was then the Hobbit remembered that he still bore the burn scars upon the entire left hand side of his body that he'd received as a child. Nevermind the thick scar upon his face. He must make an awful sight, no wonder Oin had looked him over with such worry. He was definitely an unsuitable match for a King.

In the evening a new room was found for Bilbo, one even larger than where he'd been staying. The Hobbit was grateful. He had grown a bit tired of living in the other room, and he figured the marks scratched into the wall would only serve to remind him of Smaug and his life with him, as if the halls of Erebor weren't enough already. Bilbo found he had little to do without cleaning and cooking for a dragon, so he preoccupied himself with learning from the Dwarves. He quickly befriended the youngest of the company, Ori, Fili, and Kili. And when he wasn't quite feeling silliness and youth he'd relax with Bofur or Balin, telling them stories of the Shire, and they would return in kind with stories of the Blue Mountains and Erebor before Smaug had taken it. They smoked together, though Bilbo commented on how Hobbits were known for some of the best pipe-weed, and it was a shame the Shire was gone, and none remained. The two Dwarves would have appreciated it to no end.

Several weeks later many other Dwarves had started to arrive in caravans to the mountain. Word that Erebor had been reclaimed by Thorin Oakenshield travelled quickly and many arrived to their old home once again. The Dwarves looked upon Bilbo with curiosity, and some with distaste. The Hobbit was much different from them, and many wondered why he was able to live amongst the halls as though he belonged there. It did not take long for Bilbo to begin feeling truly uncomfortable. Gandalf had left again to see to various things, and though Bilbo had some new friends, he still missed the one link to his past greatly. It was a lonely day that a specific caravan had arrived. Thorin's sister Dis was upon it, and she greeted her sons Fili and Kili with happiness and her brother with a swift slap to the head.

"Who are you?" Dis had asked when she caught sight of Bilbo watching from afar. The Hobbit had shifted a bit before introducing himself.

"Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit from…the Shire. The dragon held me captive here for many years," He spoke. Dis's eyes saddened at his words then she approached him, embracing him tightly and they spoke for much of the evening. Bilbo liked Dis, she was a kind Dwarf, with a strong personality that reminded him of his own mother. They became quite close, and one day Bilbo confided in her when she asked why he often looked so upset.

"I once thought…that I'd be rescued, and married as princesses are," Bilbo started, then he laughed bitterly.

"But I'm not a princess, and now I find that I have nothing to my name. The Shire…is gone, my home is gone. And everything I might have once called mine here, now belongs to another," Bilbo continued. Dis observed him with a troubled frown upon her face.

"Thorin tells me you found the Arkenstone, and kept it safe during your stay. Bilbo, you could take some of the gold from the mountain I'm sure. Enough to get you a new home, new belongings, I know Thorin would not mind," Dis began, but Bilbo interrupted her quickly.

"No! I could never take such things. They are not mine, it would be wrong. I just, feel lost is all, like there is nowhere I belong now," Bilbo continued. Dis would have tried to convince the Hobbit further, but she knew it would do no good, so instead she held him in her arms and did her best to make him feel welcome in Erebor.

Bilbo quickly became edgy and uncomfortable walking the halls of Erebor with no real purpose. So he inadvertently found himself cleaning once again. He kept things tidy, even though there were now others that held that job. And sometimes he would travel down to the kitchens and talk to the cook about his own recipes, and the herbs he'd found delightfully tasteful. He was sure the Dwarves thought him strange, but he needed to stay preoccupied and busy.

One day he was reading with Ori in the gardens surrounding the mountain. Bilbo enjoyed having the sun on his face after so much time without it. The mountain was quite dark on the inside, and without the Arkenstone to give him light Bilbo now found he needed daylight to raise his spirits. The other members of the company were out and about on this day as well, taking some much needed time off from other duties around the mountain. Even Thorin was walking with Balin. Fili and Kili were nearby, together again as always, and the Hobbit watched as they whispered to each other under a tree. Bilbo gasped and his eyes widened when he saw Fili lean over to kiss his brother gently. Ori looked at him in surprise at noise.

"What's wrong Bilbo?" Ori had asked him. Bilbo pointed over at the tree.

"They're…they're kissing! Aren't they…brothers?" Bilbo whispered frantically at the Dwarf. Ori shifted a bit.

"Yes, they are, but there's something you should know before you place judgement. Dwarves fall in love only once Bilbo. Fili and Kili…they love each other and they always will, they always have," Ori spoke gently and suddenly Bilbo understood. An impenetrable love. It was really quite romantic. He looked upon the brothers studying them again. They seemed so happy together, and who was Bilbo to judge them for that. However, he flushed bright red and looked away when Fili began obviously groping Kili.

"I see…," Bilbo commented. He thought on it more and felt his heart fall slightly. If Dwarves fell in love only once, then it was nearly impossible that Thorin would ever grow to like him. Nor would it be right for him to pursue the Dwarf, not that he ever would.

"Do you have a one yet Ori?" Bilbo asked spontaneously. Ori bit his lip and began to nervously tug at his knitted gloves.

"Mmm…I think so, though, I have not yet told him," Ori gently spoke, and Bilbo did not miss the way his eyes travelled to where Dwalin was sharpening his many blades. The Hobbit had a hard time picturing the small Dwarf with such an intimidating one. However, at the same time he figured if Dwalin took care of his one as well as he took care of his blades, he would probably be a good match for Ori.

"What about Thorin? He is…unwed. Has he not yet met his one?" Bilbo managed to probe and Ori studied him with a small smile.

"He has not. Thorin's been preoccupied with many other things in his life. He's been in many battles, and lost many friends. I'm sure he's not really had much time to think about love. Although…," Ori trailed off.

"What?" Bilbo asked, very curious and Ori turned to him with a sunny smile.

"I have not missed the way he looks at you, nor have the others," Ori suggested. Bilbo swallowed gently, and then looked at the grass, his face regaining its former blush.

"You say that Ori, but I do not think he looks at me because he likes me," Bilbo said, thinking of how Thorin's eyes tended to stray not to him, but to the scars on his skin. He was most likely disturbed by the sight. At that moment, Bilbo glanced up and noticed the king's eyes upon him and he looked away quickly with sorrow.

+++++

The days in Erebor passed quickly, and nearly five months had gone by since the Dwarves reclaimed their home. Bilbo had formed strong friendships with many of the Dwarves now. And although he rarely spoke to Thorin, the king did not seem to dislike his presence in the mountain, but rather merely seemed confused by it. Dis tried to tell him it was just Thorin's usual brooding attitude, but Bilbo wasn't so sure. The Dwarf seemed stiff, and nervous in his movements, as though he was unsure about something important.

Bilbo was feeling particularly young on this day. He was with Fili and Kili, and the three of them had spent the day playing pranks on the other Dwarves from the company, and some Bilbo did not even know. He'd had fun, and now they were relaxing near a river outside of the mountain. The brothers had set up a rope and were planning to swing from a cliff out into the water below. Bilbo was a bit apprehensive about the idea. There were rocks in the river, and it seemed a bit dangerous. But they managed to convince him to go first.

"Okay okay, just give me a minute here," Bilbo said as he tightened his small hands around the rope. It was quite the drop, and he hoped he timed it right. The brothers were giggling behind him and Bilbo clenched his shoulders up and tightened his large toes in the grass beneath him. He was just getting ready to take a leap when the two Dwarves pushed him roughly from behind sending him screaming over the ledge, the rope gripped tight in his hands. He felt the branch they'd tied it to snap and suddenly he was falling to the water below. Bilbo gasped as cold water surrounded him, unfortunately breathing in water instead of air. He struggled to gain his bearings coughing a bit underwater, when a strong hand gripped him and pulled him to the shore.

Bilbo looked up to see an incredibly angry Thorin Oakenshield glaring between him and the two brothers who looked sufficiently chastised.

"What do you think you're doing?" Thorin boomed at them.

"He's a Hobbit, not a Dwarf, you could have killed him. What if he'd landed on the rocks of the river?" Thorin asked his nephews, anger evident in his voice. Bilbo sniffled a bit, to get the water out of his nose, and then coughed to gain Thorin's attention.

"Actually, I'll have you know, I'm a perfectly capable Hobbit that survived amongst a dragon for over thirty five years. Thank you very much," Thorin turned his glare upon him then.

"You are all acting like children, playing pranks in the mountain, frolicking over the grounds. You're older and smarter than this. I've heard nothing but complaints all day from others in the mountain walls. I would expect better from all of you, but especially you, Halfling," Thorin reprimanded him. The words hit Bilbo harder than they should have. He'd had enough days worrying about how long he would survive or when the next time he'd find his body burning from a dragon's flames would be. Bilbo grew suddenly angry. He stood and looked the Dwarf king in the eyes, water dripping down his face.

"I'm afraid I gave up being a child long ago Thorin. The wrath of a dragon does tend to have that effect on one. I was merely trying to make up for lost time. If you blame anyone blame me. I will do my best not to influence your nephews again," Bilbo spoke with distaste, and he walked away squeezing the water from his hair. Fili and Kili looked at each other in shock, and Thorin followed the Hobbit's form with his eyes until it disappeared from his sight.

+++++

That night Bilbo had terrible nightmares. It was not uncommon; he often remembered the obliteration of his home, or the dragon's fierceness. Sometimes Bilbo had even woken from night terrors about Scatha, after particularly gruelling days. This time however it was a bit different. The dream had been relatively empty. And instead of an image it was more of a feeling. His chest grew tight, and darkness surrounded him. Bilbo couldn't breathe, and he woke suddenly gasping for air, his body sweating in his sheets. He sat up quickly, breathing deeply and trying to calm his shaking form. He knew he would not be able to sleep again so he put on a robe and ventured out into the empty and quiet halls of the mountain.

Bilbo walked out onto one of the terraces he particularly liked. Several had been discovered after Thorin's company had returned. They'd been completely blocked off while Smaug lived in the mountain and Bilbo wished he'd known of one or two, though he supposed the dragon would not have let him out on them. The night air was fresh in his lungs and helped soothe his body's tremors. Bilbo walked over to the railing, leaning upon it as he looked out upon the lands to the East of Erebor. In the distance Bilbo could see the peaks of the Iron Hills, and beyond that the scenic beauty of the horizon. He particularly liked this view, because it was looking away from the Shire, and the place he had come, instead to new places, farther and undiscovered. Not to mention it was beautiful in the early morning when the sun first rose. The entire direction spoke of hope.

Bilbo was startled from his thoughts when a tall form settled on his left. He looked up in surprise to find Thorin standing and looking out upon the night sky. The Dwarf looked like he had not yet gone to bed, his crown still settled upon his head, and his royal robes wrapped about his body.

"This was my favourite place as a child," Thorin spoke softly. The Dwarf closed his eyes and smiled as he reminisced.

"I used to rush out here every morning to watch the sun rise, then I'd come back every night to look at the stars. I've missed it so much. It is good, to be home once more," Thorin finished, and then he opened his eyes looking briefly out at the lands before turning towards the Hobbit.

Bilbo twisted towards him slightly, looking up at his face and then to the crown he wore, where the Arkenstone was inlaid and shone bright as a star. He looked every bit a king.

"You look often upon the Arkenstone in my crown," Thorin said as he watched the Hobbit's gaze. Bilbo averted his eyes quickly, embarrassed that the king had seen him looking.

"Why did you not take the stone from me?" Thorin suddenly asked and Bilbo's fingers tightened around the railing.

"It was not mine to take," was his simple and truthful response.

"You hesitated; I watched your eyes, why not flee with it if you wanted it so dearly?" Thorin continued, and Bilbo looked at him then.

"You've misunderstood me Thorin. I do not wish to steal anything from you. I had merely grown used to wearing it around my neck. It was the only thing in this mountain I considered my own for many years, as Smaug allowed me to take it. The stone gave me comfort on the darkest of days and nights. Deep down I knew it was never mine. And, for your information, it has not been the Arkenstone I've gazed at these past few days, but instead simply…you," Bilbo's eyes lowered and he reddened a bit at the admission. Thorin seemed surprised by the Hobbit's words, his fingers clenching around the metal barrier.

"You could have asked anything of me Halfling and I would have given it, why nothing?" The Dwarf quietly questioned and Bilbo sighed deeply.

"You forget, Thorin, that you are the one whom rescued me. If anything, it is I that owes you everything. Besides, there is only one thing I want…and it is not something that can be gifted but rather something that must be found," Bilbo replied in earnest, and his thoughts travelled to the Shire once more. He wanted a home, he wanted to belong, and that was not something that could just be given like gold or jewels. Thorin did not pry, and though Bilbo could not bring himself to look back at the king, he felt his gaze on his face.

"Do you think me odd?" Bilbo asked, and when he received no answer he continued.

"You stare often at my scars. Do they disgust you?" Bilbo's lips trembled slightly this time, fearful of the answer he might receive. Thorin shifted slightly next to him.

"No, Halfling. Rather, I find you quite…mesmerizing. You are a courageous being, to have survived amongst a dragon for so long," Thorin spoke. This time Bilbo was able to look at him when he spoke.

"On the contrary your majesty. If I was truly courageous then I would have allowed the dragon to kill me ages ago. I was merely motivated by my fear of death," Bilbo spoke with a sad smile and the Dwarf frowned a bit.

"I have never met a Hobbit before, and I am sure I will never meet another. Are all Hobbits like you Master Baggins?" Thorin asked. Bilbo chuckled a bit and looked up at the sky while he spoke.

"No, I was always a troublemaker. My teachers hated me for my antics. I always wanted to go on an adventure. To explore the woods and cities beyond the boundaries of Hobbiton. Most Hobbits were content to stay right where they were. I had so many dreams then. My mother told me tales from books, and I longed to create my own. For the longest time with the dragon I thought I'd be rescued and married off like all of the princesses from the stories. But then…I'm not really a princess am I?" Bilbo paused, his smile morphing into a frown. His eyes grew sad and longing.

"The real thing…was not quite like the book. There was no happy ending. Only death and destruction, and the memories of my long lost home," Bilbo felt tears coming to his eyes as he remembered his mother. He struggled to hold them back when he realised Thorin was still looking at him.

"You are staring again, my king," Bilbo all but whispered. The Hobbit flinched slightly when he felt a finger lightly touch his face. Thorin ghosted it down the scar there. It began just beneath his left eye, trailing down his cheek to the edge of his lips. It was thick and white, standing out on his skin vividly.

"I am curious where this one came from. Was it Smaug?" Thorin whispered. Bilbo turned towards him again, the king's finger still resting on his face.

"No, despite all of Smaug's cruelty, and the terror of his flames, he was quite manageable compared to the others," Bilbo began.

"Others?" Thorin asked, his eyes boring into the Hobbit's.

"The other dragons. This particular mark came not from Smaug, but instead one of his friends. Scatha, a cruel dragon that hails from Mount Gundabad," Bilbo continued.

"The orc pit?" Thorin said, his eyes widening slightly.

"Yes…he is ruthless, a wingless dragon that thrives on causing pain. My worst memories with Smaug are when that ghastly dragon would visit. The only saving grace was that Scatha could not breathe fire. I'm sure the right side of my body would look much the same as the left if that were the case," Bilbo said with a bit of humor, though he saw none in the Dwarf's eyes. Thorin looked down upon his neck, where the burn marks began.

"You are quite courageous Halfling, regardless of what you might think. I find it is often one's will to survive, even in the worst situations, which truly demonstrates the greatest of strength," Thorin spoke and then his hand gently tucked a bit of hair behind Bilbo's pointed ear. They stared at each other for some time, until the Dwarf gripped Bilbo's chin lightly, and leant forward to press their lips gently together. It was chaste, and tender, and Bilbo felt heat come to his cheeks despite it. Their lips moved together softly, and when Thorin finally pulled away, Bilbo felt years younger. The Dwarf smiled at him as he took his original place again, leaning against the railing. When Bilbo shivered, Thorin wrapped his thick cloak around his shoulders. They stood next to each other in silence until Bilbo could barely see a dusting of light appearing on the horizon.

"You should get some rest, Halfling, before the dawn arrives," Thorin finally spoke. Bilbo grinned, and moved to leave, handing the cloak back.

"Good night…Thorin," he whispered and the Dwarf turned to look at him.

"Good night, Bilbo, sweet dreams," Thorin answered in kind, and Bilbo practically skipped away down the hall and back to his room. The next few hours of sleep were the best and most restful he had known in many years.

The following days were strange, but pleasant. Bilbo spent more time in Thorin's presence, and though they did not kiss again, they spoke frequently. He'd gone for walks with Thorin in the gardens and around the halls of Erebor. The king would tell him memories from his childhood in specific places, and Bilbo would tell him stories of his time with Smaug. He'd even learned how to ride a pony, with the help of the Dwarf, who watched over him the entire time, making sure he kept his balance. When Thorin pulled him tightly to his chest as he dismounted, Bilbo felt his heart beat four times faster than normal. It was not long before Bilbo began to think he might one day call Erebor his home. The other Dwarves were receptive of his happiness and encouraged him with smiles. Dis as always was pleasant and chatty. The Hobbit was genuinely happy, and he was very much in love.

+++++

Thorin was exhausted. He'd not slept much since reclaiming Erebor, and it had only gotten worse lately. Thorin had suffered through a frustrating day visiting with delegates and councilmen. Though Erebor had been surprisingly well kept in his absence, there was still much negotiation to take care of. He'd spent the day listening to others complain about anything and everything. The people of Dale visited to complain, the elves visited to complain, the humans visited to complain, even his own staff members were complaining. There had been one comment that day in particular that struck a chord with him. The cook had complained thoroughly about the Hobbit. He'd said that Bilbo often criticized his cooking and suggested better ways to flavour the dishes. He was a royal cook and felt he did not need lectures from a Hobbit with little experience in the world. And apparently others of the way Bilbo walked about the mountain freely and cleaned it as though it was his. It was strange behaviour to be sure, especially since Thorin had specifically told him he need not work for his keep. Thorin had a pounding headache, the sides of his temples throbbed, and his eyes felt like they were burning. He did not wish to talk to anyone, nor hear any more complaints ever again. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed.

He rounded a corner in his halls and nearly ran right into the form of one Bilbo Baggins. Thorin groaned, not because he disliked the Hobbit, but because he was getting chattier with each passing day, and the Dwarf knew he could not handle it right then. Sure enough it was not moments later when Bilbo greeted Thorin with a happy smile and began to bounce along beside him.

"Thorin! How was your day? You do look awfully tired. Have you been sleeping enough?" Bilbo asked caringly and Thorin just nodded and continued walking at a fast pace. Thoughts of what the other Dwarves were saying passed through his thoughts. They thought the Hobbit strange, and surely unsuitable. Everything was frustrating him to no end. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"And so I found this beautiful fabric in one of the old rooms in the west wing, I was thinking, gosh, it would make a lovely vest, and it's been such a long time since I made a new one. What do you think Thorin?" The Hobbit questioned and Thorin stopped in a rush gripping his forehead and turned roughly towards the other.

"Erebor is not your home Bilbo Baggins! Stop acting like it is!" he bellowed, the loud noises causing his skull to throb with even more pain. He managed to breathe in deeply long enough to ease the ache, but when his eyes opened they fell upon the wet and misty ones of the Hobbit. It took several moments for Thorin to realise exactly what he'd yelled and he regretted it immediately. Bilbo was backing away from him slowly, his lips trembling a bit.

"Y-you're right Thorin…I have no home," Bilbo stuttered, his eyes wide with shock, and then he bowed quickly and scurried away before the Dwarf had a chance to say a single word.

"Damn it all!" Thorin yelled again, wincing when hot pain surged beneath his eyes. What was he thinking? Of course Bilbo could call Erebor home, and he could do whatever he pleased within the mountain's walls. Especially since he planned to eventually…Thorin quickly put a stop to those thoughts. He sighed with regret. Perhaps it was for the best. The king had no time for romance, exhausted as he was, and the people would think a joining between a Dwarf and Hobbit strange. Perhaps kissing Bilbo had been a mistake, though Thorin knew he would never take it back. The Dwarf settled to think more on the matter in the morning, desperately in need of rest.

+++++

Bilbo had spent the night crying his eyes out. He'd gotten his hopes up and for what? Only to be let down, and let down hard. Erebor had never been his home, and never would be, and he'd been a fool to think a king would want a mere Hobbit like him by his side. Bilbo avoided Thorin for the next few days, though it was not hard, as the Dwarf had been completely occupied by meetings and conferences in the throne room. Dis had finally cornered the Hobbit, asking of his drastically dampened mood and Bilbo took the chance to confide in her as he always did.

''I think it's time I began looking to start my life elsewhere. I've been stuck in my tales far too long. I need to…grow up," Bilbo spoke softly. Dis frowned at him and placed her hands on his face.

"What did he say to you darling?" she asked fiercely, and Bilbo struggled to hold his tears at bay. She knew him so well now. She knew the only one that could upset him so was her brother.

"Nothing he didn't mean," Bilbo answered, and Dis got no more information from him that day. She would have to find Thorin and give him a piece of her mind.

+++++

It was late in the day when a strange uneasiness fell over Erebor, and great horns sounded out in warning. The Dwarves scurried and scampered to get to safety as the ground rumbled and roaring filled the air.

"A dragon! From the ground! It approaches quickly!" a scout had screamed through the halls.

"A dragon is coming!" echoed in every room. Bilbo shook with fear, as he felt the ground shake. He recognized this dragon's movements. It was Scatha, the dragon from the North, and the Hobbit ran quickly to the throne room where he knew Thorin and the rest of the company along with the dwarven army would be. He arrived just in time to see the beast thrust its snakelike body up from the ground beneath the mountain. Stone tiles scattered as thick claws scratched at the floor. Screams filled the hall as Scatha attacked everything in sight. Dwarves flew across the room, bloody, and in pieces, and Bilbo gasped at the sight. He had not seen such terror and destruction since he was a child, and Smaug had destroyed his home. He was frozen again, just like that time, but when Scatha moved, his attention on the Dwarf king, Bilbo forced back his fear. He ran forward, placing himself between the dragon and the Dwarf.

"Whelp!" The dragon screeched and moved to throw him.

"Scatha! Wait! Do you not recognize me?" Bilbo desperately yelled. The dragon paused before him, leering at him as he used to.

"Smaug's princess? Still alive and kicking I see? Not for long!" Scatha seethed and his mouth opened wide.

"Wait, please! Scatha, you have no princess of your own. Take me. Take me instead of ruining the mountain. I know the value in a princess, and so do you," Bilbo quickly tried to convince the dragon. It was a longshot. Scatha was an interesting case, and while the average dragon valued princesses higher than gold, it was possible that Scatha did not.

"Please Scatha, leave Erebor, take me as your princess," he practically begged. The dragon's eyes narrowed with a mysterious light.

"Alright ferret, you have yourself a deal," Scatha finally caved, his long jagged teeth forming a smirk.

"What do you think you're doing Halfling?" Thorin hissed at him, and Bilbo turned to look him in the eyes. The king looked strangely desperate, but Bilbo had to do this. He had to save the Dwarf, and the mountain he'd just taken back.

"I'm protecting your kingdom and people Thorin. And…and I'm finding a home," Bilbo said, his eyes filled with sorrow, and he winced as the dragon gripped him in a claw. He saw Thorin reach out to him but the dragon moved too quickly.

"You'll live to regret this little princess," Scatha laughed and began to crawl down into the tunnel he came from and back to his own mountain. Thorin stood in shock, looking at the hole in his hall.

Days passed and the Dwarves were struggling to repair the damages the dragon had made to the throne room. Just moments Scatha had been in their midst and fifteen Dwarves were dead, twenty-four injured. The people agreed, the Hobbit had saved them. If the dragon's rage had continued, the entire kingdom would have been lost once more, and the death toll in the hundreds, maybe thousands. The Dwarf king was sullen and he occupied himself with his usual diplomacy, continuing on as though the attack had never occurred. However when Gandalf the Grey strolled into his hall asking what on earth had happened, Thorin knew he could not pretend any longer. The wizard was furious.

"Where is Bilbo?" He'd hollered, and Thorin looked away unable to answer.

"The dragon took him Gandalf," Dis uttered, and she looked at her brother in displeasure.

"You let another dragon take him? After all he's been through? I left him in your care Thorin!" The wizard was seething with anger and he had stormed out unable to deal with Thorin's silence any longer. Dis decided it was enough. Her brother was acting like a complete idiot. She pulled him aside and smacked him fiercely on the head as she always did when upset.

"What are you thinking brother?" Dis asked him. She received no answer.

"Why are you not chasing after him, marching into that dragon's mountain and getting him back?" She continued, and Thorin turned on her.

"What would you have me do? I just got this kingdom back; the people need me here, to lead!" Thorin argued, and Dis scoffed.

"He's your one Thorin! It's plain as day!" she reasoned with him, and Thorin sighed heavily and collapsed on a chair, his head in his hands.

"I remember a Dwarf that would willingly step into battle and stop at nothing to take back what was his. A Dwarf that would travel across Middle Earth with just a few of his closest companions, regardless of what lay in wait. Not some delegate, some politician, whom cared more about ruling and counselling his people than anything else. What happened to that brave Dwarf I once knew? What happened to my brother?" Dis probed, her hands flying about in frantic gestures. Thorin was silent and unmoving on the chair and she lowered her arms.

"Many more days left with that beast, and I fear he will be gone from this world Thorin," Dis spoke softly, and left him to brood alone. His sister was right of course. The dwarf knew the dragon Scatha was one the Hobbit feared the most. He shuddered at the thought of the scar on his face and could only imagine what other marks he bore because of the beast. Thorin had never felt so lost. The Halfling, Bilbo, consumed his mind. Somehow in the past months he'd become so very important to the Dwarf. Thorin hated the thought of Bilbo getting hurt, but he'd done plenty of that himself hadn't he? He'd lashed out at him, driven him away, and what bothered Thorin the most, was that Bilbo had left because of his words. Because he thought Erebor was not his home. The Dwarf leant back and sighed heavily. Bilbo was his one, he'd known since he first saw him, though he'd been unwilling to admit it, and initially had not recognized it for what it was. He was nothing without the Halfling. What good was having a kingdom, when the one you loved could not enjoy it with you? When the one you loved was suffering? It seemed Thorin had much planning to do the next few days. His face was set in a hard line and he rose with newfound determination as he yelled out for his friend,

"Dwalin! I require your assistance!"

+++++

Bilbo woke in pain. Traveling in tunnels underground was not nearly as forgiving as flying. For a moment Bilbo pitied Scatha, though he swiftly pushed those thoughts away. The dragon was a fearsome beast and deserved no sympathy. Bilbo moaned as he rolled on his front. The stench of rotting surrounded him, and he nearly vomited when his eyes opened to see his surroundings. Dead bodies were everywhere. Orcs, humans, elves, and Dwarves littered the floor, along with bodies Bilbo could not recognise. The Hobbit realised he could hear marching from outside of the mountain, and the echoes of an orc army's jeers flew through the walls. This place was horrifying.

Scatha sauntered in, his slimy body dragging across the floor. He slid right up in front of Bilbo and dropped a body on the ground before him with a grin.

"Cook it, ferret," Scatha snarled. And Bilbo's eyes looked down upon the dead body of a Dwarf. He wanted so badly to run, though he knew he'd get nowhere. Even if he managed by some luck to escape the confines of the mountain, an orc army was virtually impossible to pass through undetected. And Bilbo knew the moment he tried, Scatha would continue his reign of terror upon Erebor, and Bilbo would not allow that. He figured he should be grateful the Dwarf before him was unfamiliar. He shuddered with the thought of having to flay a friend. What if Bofur had been dropped before him, or Ori? Oh mercy, Ori. He couldn't handle such a thought. Bilbo did his best to keep his eyes closed and struggle through cooking Scatha's meal and later he sobbed himself to sleep at the horror of what he'd done.

Each day Scatha brought him Elves and Humans to cook, and one time, he brought an elf that was still alive.

"Well Princess? Guess you'll have to kill it first!" Scatha had laughed, and Bilbo absolutely could not. He refused, until the dragon began to torture the poor thing, and Bilbo rushed forward to break its neck and end its pain. He felt sick. He'd killed someone, and he knew he'd never forget the feeling of bones breaking beneath his hands. Bilbo did not sleep after that. He couldn't. Every time his eyes closed, his mind conjured sickening images. Never had Smaug made him kill, and Bilbo was now reminded at how awful life with a dragon could be. He wanted to go back, to Erebor. He wanted…to go home. He wanted to see Thorin again, even if the Dwarf did not desire his presence.

Bilbo grew weaker, and sadder with each passing day. It seemed that Scatha forgot Bilbo needed sustenance, and when the Hobbit suggested such a thing, the dragon merely commented that he was welcome to some Elf. Bilbo did not ask again. He'd gladly starve.

He was quickly growing bitter. He hated Scatha and wanted nothing more than to see him burn. It would be such a fitting death for a dragon that had no fire of its own. He'd said something similar in a moment of weakness and Scatha had growled at him in rage and slashed his sharp claws across Bilbo's back. The welts left behind burned, and Bilbo was sure they would get infected in the filth he was living in.

He was struggling to stay awake, and alive, for no more reason than to keep his friends safe, when he heard the jeers of the orcs outside the mountain increase and change in rhythm. Someone was there. Bilbo scurried to the front of the mountain and he watched as a great army filled with men, Dwarves and elves alike rushed up the hill, slaying orcs in its wake. He scampered back, shaking behind the walls and confused by the sight, wondering if he'd perhaps gone mad. Then suddenly Scatha screeched and burrowed into the room. The dragon had been hit with several flaming arrows, and its body was writhing under the ground where it burrowed trying to tame the flames.

Bilbo felt helpless and on the verge of passing out, but still he watched a group stampede into the caverns and charge at the dragon, blades, and spears thrusting into the dirt to stab at its burrowed body. Scatha's head emerged crying out, and Bilbo covered his ears at the sounds. He whimpered and cried in a corner his body shaking with fear. He felt arms wrap around him, and he flinched as hands touched the cuts on his back. He looked up slowly into piercing blue eyes.

"Thorin! What are you doing here?" Bilbo whispered, his breath shaky. The Dwarf kissed him on his brow, and wrapped him in his arms, lifting his body from the ground.

"Rescuing my princess," he said. Bilbo's vision was fading, but he tried to reason with him, even though it was much too late.

"The mountain is riddled with orcs…even if you've killed Scatha…putting yourself in such danger for me was ridiculous, and…those armies…where did they…," Bilbo gasped out between breaths. He felt Thorin's arms tighten around him as his eyes closed.

"Hush, Halfling," The Dwarf whispered in his ear. And he vaguely heard as Thorin yelled at the army.

"Leave the gold, I have what we came for! We must break away immediately; the orcs will be upon us in no time without the dragon's presence in the mountain. Dwalin, cover me," his deep voice carried across the room.

"Hurry to the front gates!" Someone yelled.

"There! The Eagles!" Another, and then Bilbo passed into unconsciousness.

+++++

When Bilbo awoke this time it was in the softest bed he'd ever laid in. And though he ached everywhere, the pain was dampened, by what he assumed must be some kind of medicine. His eyes opened sluggishly and fell upon a Dwarf sitting next to him. Thorin was watching him intently and Bilbo felt a little intimidated by his gaze. The king was not wearing his crown, and his robes were unusually absent. His hair hung in waves beside his face and Bilbo thought he looked absolutely magnificent.

"H-hello," Bilbo managed to get out, his voice a bit rough and scratchy.

"Hello," Thorin replied, and continued to stare at him. The Dwarf seemed content to just look at him and not talk so they stayed like that for a while until Bilbo began to fidget under the gaze. He struggled to sit up, and the Dwarf moved forward to help. It was then Bilbo noticed Thorin had something in his hands. The Arkenstone shone there, attached to a decorative necklace. Thorin noticed his stare and held it up so Bilbo could see clearly.

"It is a gift," Thorin said, his voice deep and smooth. Bilbo looked at him with great confusion and the Dwarf smiled and wrapped it around Bilbo's neck.

"I find I much prefer the way the Arkenstone shines on your neck than how it sits in my crown. And hopefully this way I can look upon it forever," Thorin said as he fastened the ties at the nape of Bilbo's neck and sat back in his chair. Bilbo looked down at the glowing stone, and brought his fingers up to touch it.

"Forever?" He asked and Thorin's smile faded, his expression turning far more serious.

"I would take your hand in marriage Bilbo, if you are willing," Thorin gently spoke. The Hobbit's eyes moved frantically about, trying to understand.

"Then I can stay, here, in Erebor?" Bilbo questioned, unsure if the Dwarf was serious. Thorin glanced away briefly before looking into the Hobbit's eyes.

"The words I spoke to you that day were unwarranted. I was tired and annoyed. I'm…sorry for lashing out at you. I love you Bilbo Baggins. You are my one, and you may do anything you please here in Erebor, even if that means making a vest from old curtains," Thorin said with some humor in his voice.

"O-oh…they were curtains?" Bilbo sputtered and Thorin chuckled lightly.

"You saved my home, protected my people and suffered under the wrath of that beast for our safety. You are a hero now Bilbo and I've never respected another being more, though I've always thought you had such strength," the Dwarf uttered, and then he grasped Bilbo's hands in his own.

"I hope you can call the mountain your home from this day forth," Thorin finished, and Bilbo smiled as tears leaked from his eyes. He nodded quickly and Thorin moved forwards in a rush, pulling him into a tight embrace and kissing his cheek.

"Ah! Mindful of the scratches!" Bilbo shouted, and he heard Thorin laugh, though he carefully checked Bilbo over to make sure he was okay. Once he was confident in the Hobbit's wellbeing he proceeded to ravish him with kisses until Bilbo positively shook with desire.

+++++

Their wedding was a simple affair, despite being a royal one. Thorin wanted only to make Bilbo happy, and they were joined in front of friends, and family, and they celebrated with a feast and night of dancing and drinking. Gandalf was there, and his eyes shone in a mischievous way that had the couple wondering if he had known this day would come all along. Bofur was drunkenly singing a merry tune and leading some of the others along in it. Gloin was eagerly traipsing across the dance floor with his wife, and Bombur followed suit with his, the two couples twisting and turning in joy. Fili and Kili were dancing with each other intimately, and Bilbo figured it would not be long before they too were wed here in the mountain. He noticed Dwalin was red-faced from too much mead and teasing Ori mercilessly, while his brothers watched carefully.

Dis looked positively superior and she congratulated the pair and threatened Thorin frequently. In the days after Bilbo's rescue Thorin's sister had told Bilbo most of what had happened in his absence. She spoke proudly of her brother who had stormed towards Mount Gundabad with four armies to take on a sea of orcs and a dragon, all for his lost love. Gold was no object she had said, and Thorin gave much away for the sake of rescuing the Hobbit. Of course she emphasized her part, and how her brother was an idiot and a fool as well as a hero. Bilbo laughed at the stories and the two planned the wedding happily.

Soon all of the Dwarves were singing a merry tune, and Bilbo was happy to say he felt very welcome amongst them. Thorin seemed eager to have his Hobbit, leading him off to their shared rooms earlier perhaps than might be customary. No one argued, and Bilbo shyly let the Dwarf pull him along. Through the door Bilbo could still hear the singing of the other Dwarves he'd grown so fond of, though his eyes saw only the one before him. Thorin led him to the bed, his eyes unmoving from Bilbo's face. He lifted the Hobbit gently and kissed him passionately as he laid his body out on the bed. Bilbo moaned as Thorin's tongue licked across his lips, and his fingers played along his sides. The Dwarf was just as intense in the bedroom as he was on his throne. His gaze was penetrating and his strength very apparent as he easily placed Bilbo where he wanted. Thorin's eyes passed over him and they rested on the Arkenstone, which he removed quickly and dropped to the floor beside the bed, far more interested in what was beneath it.

It was not until Thorin's thick fingers began removing Bilbo's shirt that the Hobbit grew wary. Thorin recognized his nervousness immediately and pulled back to look in his eyes. Bilbo knew the Dwarf had never seen his body, not in its entirety. And he suddenly felt very self-conscious. The marks on his face were nothing compared to the sheer quantity that riddled the rest of his form. He swallowed as Thorin continued to unbutton his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and revealing his torso. The Dwarf ran a hand across his left side, caressing the burn that travelled the length of his body. Bilbo shivered at the touch and gasped when Thorin bent over him to kiss down his entire chest. The Dwarf's fingers touched everything, grazing the scar beneath his navel, and stroking the two marks that rest above his right hip. Then Bilbo felt the Dwarf's thick arousal press against him and he knew Thorin found him very attractive. He flushed heavily and shuddered as Thorin's tongue flicked across his nipples.

And then the Dwarf was kissing him again, while he worked to untie his breeches. Bilbo barely felt them pass down his legs, though he definitely noticed when Thorin's fingers stroked up the inside of his thighs.

"Ooh, oh my," Bilbo gasped out and he pressed a hand weakly into Thorin's chest. The Dwarf pulled back with a smile, and settled himself between the Hobbit's legs. Bilbo swallowed timidly, then reached up shaking fingers to unbutton Thorin's shirt. The Dwarf watched him intently and allowed Bilbo to push it gently over his muscled shoulders, so that it pooled against his arms. Bilbo was awed by the Dwarf. His shoulders were incredibly powerful. His chest followed suit, though what captivated Bilbo most, were the dark hairs that mimicked the colour of his beard and riddled his front. The Hobbit couldn't resist running his fingers through them and down to the Dwarf's abdomen. He paused at the sight of the bulge in Thorin's trousers. The Dwarf pulled his hands away from Bilbo to release himself. His arousal stood proud, a darker colour than the rest of the Dwarf's skin, and Bilbo shuddered a bit at the sheer size of it, then hesitantly touched the tip with a finger.

Thorin's fingers reached up to tangle in some of the braids winding through the Hobbit's hair. They were woven with beads and flowers, and looked beautiful on Bilbo's fair head. Thorin bent down and spoke in the Hobbit's ear.

"You're exquisite," he whispered, and Bilbo felt the hot breath tickle at his face, and the scruff of the Dwarf's beard scratch against his ear. When Thorin licked along the side and up the pointed tip Bilbo moaned loudly. He was incredibly aroused, and Thorin gently stroked a finger up the underside of the Hobbit's hardness, taking great pleasure from the squeaks and mewls that came from his lover's mouth. Thorin spread the Hobbit's legs gently and rubbed against him for a moment before he picked up a vial from the bedside table. Bilbo watched as Thorin covered his fingers in the liquid that came from it. The Dwarf looked in his eyes again, before he placed his fingers between Bilbo's legs and gently pressed them against his rear. Bilbo startled at the feeling, but Thorin's other hand rubbed at his thigh and soothed him slightly. He felt a finger breech his body, and he twitched around it. The feeling was strange, though not unpleasant. And when it was pushed as far as it would go Bilbo was panting with arousal and looking up at Thorin in wonder. The Dwarf looked captivated, and he gently began to thrust his finger inside Bilbo, loosening him, before adding another.

Bilbo writhed around them, unsure whether to pull away or push back. They probed and spread within him and he gasped and twitched as they stroked across something deep in his body. Thorin smiled at the reaction, and moved his hand to stroke Bilbo's arousal. The Hobbit was close, and he thrust uncontrollably up into the Dwarf's hand.

"Wait, Thorin! I'll…I want you inside," Bilbo managed to speak, and Thorin made a deep guttural noise in the back of his throat, as he removed his fingers and placed himself at Bilbo's entrance. The Dwarf poured oil between their bodies and Bilbo could smell the sweetness of it as it wafted up to his nose. He felt Thorin press into him, slowly and he curled his toes in the sheets beneath him. It was incredible, and he felt extremely full. Soon Thorin was rocking gently into him and Bilbo moaned with each thrust. The Dwarf leant down and kissed a trail up the scar on his face. Bilbo gasped and shuddered when Thorin reached to stroke him again. He was twitching around the Dwarf and panting madly. Then Thorin sucked at his neck, his braids trailing against Bilbo's chest and shoulders, and the Hobbit was spurting between their bodies with a cry.

Bilbo felt warmth fill him as Thorin pulsed in his body, and the Dwarf shuddered over him, his breath coming in deep groans as he filled his lover. Bilbo gasped as Thorin moved slightly, shifting in his body. The Dwarf lifted himself slightly and looked down into the Hobbit's face, his hair hanging between them. Thorin's eyes crinkled when he smiled down at the Hobbit, and Bilbo adored the creases that appeared there when he did so. He ran his fingers over them, then back through the braids that decorated Thorin's thick hair, and he blushed as the Dwarf's fingers tickled down his sides to caress his hips. Their noses touched as Thorin claimed his lips in a long lingering kiss that stole his breath away. The two spent the evening entangled in each other's bodies, and Bilbo realized with great pleasure that happy endings did in fact exist, if you waited long enough. Or maybe it was more of a happy beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Did you guys like it? Ah…I'll probably write something shorter next. Although who knows, a prompt could eat away at my brain.
> 
> Fun Facts!
> 
> Scatha is a dragon that existed in Tolkien verse, and lived in Ered Mithrin which is right next to Mount Gundabad. Technically he was killed before the events of The Hobbit but he sounded positively perfect, so I put him in, since it's an AU and all.
> 
> Fraener is from an Old Norse myth. It's the name of a Dwarf who transformed into a dragon, and is a symbol of greed.
> 
> Apalala is a Hindi myth name of a water dragon.
> 
> Rara Avis is Latin for 'A rare bird'.


End file.
